Purgatory
by Edward Uwnhai Silverfang
Summary: Manwë visits Melkor in the Great Void.


Title: Purgatory  
  
Author: Edward Uwnhai Silverfang  
  
Type: FPS  
  
Pairing: Manwë/Melkor  
  
Rating: NC-17  
  
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, only the story line.  
  
Warnings: Angst  
  
Beta: LadyHawksShadow  
  
Summary: Manwë visits Melkor in the Great Void.  
  
Author's Note: I'm joining this to a series of fic's all written listening to a song, this one was 'Way and Meditate' Tai Chi Music. This doesn't necessarily mean the story carries a similar essence to the song or some other such, it just means I was listening to it and it inspired me to write this story.

SSSSTTTTAAAARRRRTTTT  
  
There was no light, no warmth, just nothing anywhere in any direction. He had never thought something like this could happen to him, he was Melkor the mightiest of the Valar, none could touch him... but they did. Twice. The first he escaped from, where he immediately killed Finwë and stole the Silmarils. This time he didn't think there would ever be a way for him to escape. There had to be a door to do that, but there was nothing.  
  
Absolute nothing, he'd never thought fear would be something he could feel, but this frightened him, more than even he would admit to himself. He had no concept of time here; there was never a change unless it be inside himself, for there was nothing to change.  
  
But suddenly there was a sound, an eagle he thought, but couldn't be sure because it seemed to have been forever since he had last heard anything, and then light, bright light, and it hurt his eyes so.  
  
He turned away and shielded himself, but there, when looking back, was a figure, swathed in white, with a golden crown adorned with feathers and an eagle perched on his arm.  
  
He had dark blue eyes, and looked to be wise, his skin was fair, long golden blond hair, and he was beautiful. Water to Melkor's parched tongue. So he looked, and he knew, this was his brother, the great Manwë.  
  
Melkor scowled at him and turned away, "Finally deigning to see me, brother?" he sneered.  
  
Manwë didn't speak, though, just looked at him, his brother, black hair, mused, but still long and glorious. Pale from his eons of captivity, and his red eyes still as arrogant and cold. But there was something in them, something different. Despair, he thought.  
  
"You did many terrible things," he said. It was quiet, but Melkor could hear him.  
  
"Is that all you have to say?" he swiveled around and glared at the other. "If you have nothing further, I'm sure you know the way out. I have better things to be doing instead of talking to you over my deeds." Although that wasn't exactly true, he wouldn't tell Manwë he was as close to raving mad as one could be and still have control over themselves.  
  
Manwë still didn't say anything, and there was no expression on his face as he moved his arm in such a way to make the bird take flight, and exit through the door. Manwë stepped forward, and each time his foot set down it sounded as a blast of thunder miles away on a stormy night.  
  
When his hand came up and caressed his brother cheek, it was like the soothing breeze on a hot summer's day, and when those soft pink lips touched his, Melkor couldn't remember why he should hate this being.  
  
He reached up and grasped the others shoulders, pressed himself as close to this golden being as he could, trying to dig into his skin to stave off the utter dark, silence, cold, and loneliness he felt during his long captivity in the void.  
  
Manwë seemed to understand, and let Melkor do with him as he pleased. He let Melkor rip his clothing off of his body, and as his brother kissed, touched, licked every part of his skin he could reach.  
  
Melkor stripped his own body then, and he pulled his brother to the ground that Manwë had brought with him, and he made sure he was covered. Manwë touched him everywhere, and unleashed tears that he didn't know he still had after what he had done to the earth and its inhabitants.  
  
He lay there and accepted Manwë's fingers and the vala drove them into his body covered in saliva. He arched his back as his brother took him then, and hard. He wanted it hard, wanted to be hurt, and to hurt, he just needed any feeling he could have. Needed to touch and feel, to be touched, and Manwë gave it to him, gave it all to him.  
  
When he woke his head was in Manwë's lap, and his brother was braiding small knots into his hair. He looked down on Melkor then, and he gave a sorrowful smile, his finger touched the side of Melkor's lips. "You did many terrible things," he whispered.  
  
Then Melkor was alone, in the dark, cold, silence of his prison.  
  
-End-


End file.
